


have your cake (and eat it too)

by gentleau (iwanna_seeyou_undoit)



Series: have your cake (and eat it too) [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Miscommunication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 09:30:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15312561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwanna_seeyou_undoit/pseuds/gentleau
Summary: Wherein Draco gets drunk, eats cake, and sends an ill-advised Patronus, while Harry panics.





	have your cake (and eat it too)

“So, run this by me again.” Pansy says. “You got home…”

“Went to the--”

“Went to the kitchen,” Pansy finishes, just a half beat behind Draco. “ _Saw_ the special cake that Harry made for--”

“For a client’s baby shower, yes.” He nods.

“And then you… _ate_ the cake that you knew Harry had spent _hours_ and hours on--”

Merlin, Draco hates Pansy. She’s right, though. He hasn’t got a leg to stand on. Harry had been planning that cake for months. He’d spent weeks just sitting around their kitchen table sketching designs, and trialing all manner of charms. It had reached the point that even Draco was going to bed dreaming of the damned thing.  

“Alright, I get it Parkinson - I’m shit. But in my defense, I _was_ rather drunk.”

Pansy just levels him with a cool glare. If this disturbingly calm disapproval is what he gets from Pansy - an uninvolved, uninterested party - Draco dreads what Potter will do. Skin him alive and string him upside down from his little toes, probably. Parade him around Wizarding London for all the world to see what an blithering idiot he is. Treat him to a silently angry dinner, and then make Draco sleep in the spare bedroom.

He sags forward, head hitting the table with a wooden thump.

“And you still would be if I hadn’t had that potion in my bag. How’s the hangover, by the way?” She asks in such a way that Draco knows without a shadow of a doubt that she doesn’t care one whit. He complains anyway. “Mm, good thing you deserve it or I’d feel sorry for you.” The filthy Slytherin bint wouldn’t know the meaning of sympathy if it bit her on the arse.

“I didn’t call you so you could stand about lauding my mistakes over me,” Draco says. “You’re meant to actually be helping me fix this!” He pokes despairingly at the sad remains of the cake - just a few large crumbs, at this point.

Pansy finally takes a seat next to him and pats his shoulder in what he assumes is intended as a facsimile of sympathy. “We can hardly order another one. Unless all this time with your boyfriend has rubbed off on you and you can suddenly bake. How are you feeling, by the way?” She asks as an afterthought.

Aside from tremendous guilt and a creeping dread of the near future, Draco doesn’t feel much at all except full and headachy. “Not like I’ve got myself magically up the duff, if that’s what you’re asking.” He snaps.

“Right, then,” Pansy’s hand moves down to cradle one of Draco’s and oh, no. This never ends well. “I hate to say this, but I think you’re going to have to tell him the truth.”

___

Pansy, sorry excuse of a Slytherin that she is ( _tell him the truth_ , honestly? That’s the best she had?), doesn’t stick around to watch that happen, and, in hindsight, that’s probably why what happens happens.

Despite the potion Pansy had forced down his throat, Draco is still not entirely sober. He decides he’ll wait a while before telling Potter. Better to have a kitchen clean of evidence so the weight of Draco’s mistake doesn’t seem as drastic. It’s classic three-year old logic: can’t see the _remains_ of the cake - cake wasn’t really there.

Once that’s done, he thinks about the best way to do it. Harry is working late at the bakery so Draco has until morning, but he doesn’t want to just spring it on Potter as he walks in the door. He considers sending an owl, but Potter has a tendency to ignore his owl post. It also seems impersonal. Draco is _apologising_ , he can’t just send a letter

There’s a brief moment where he considers just going to bed and letting Potter discover the absence of cake by himself, and _then_ running damage control, but he imagines the look of disappointment Harry would direct at him and discards that idea.

Finally, he settles on sending a Patronus. Harry will be able to hear the remorse in Draco’s voice and, with any luck, by the time Draco has woken up Harry will have forgiven him, and he’ll be off the hook.

Tipsy as he is, it takes a few tries for his Patronus to materialise. Just as he’s beginning to dictate his message, Draco starts feeling a lot more drunk than he had ten minutes ago. Apparently the potion in Pansy’s bag wasn’t quite as fresh as she’d thought.

 _“Pansy just left, she told me I had to call you and… She gave me this potion.”_ He hiccups, now well and truly feeling the two bottles of Muggle wine and several Fire Whiskeys Zabini had forced upon him. _“‘Cept it’s gone now. Di’n’t work.”_ He sags back against the cushions of the sofa with a groan. _“Fuck, Potter. Harry.”_ This situation requires a ‘Harry.’ _“I fucked up. I did’n-- I di’n’t mean to, I promise. I’m sorry, I am. I’m so sorry. I’m… shit. I fucked up...”_

Satisfied, Draco sends his Patronus it on its way. The alcohol in him is giving their sitting room a pleasant glowy softness and Draco wriggles around on the sofa until he’s comfortable. His face mashes into the back of the sofa so he can smell the leftover Potter-smell on the stupid Gryffindor throw blanket Potter insists upon displaying.

He’ll sleep the alcohol off and in the morning, he and Harry can work out what to do about the missing cake.

___

It seems like Draco has barely fallen asleep before he’s shaken awake. He doesn’t _feel_ drunk, so he must have been asleep for at least an hour, but when he pries his eyes open, he sees it’s Potter’s hand on his shoulder. Which can’t be right. He’s meant to be at work. Draco says as much.

“You think you could just… send me that and I’d, what? Bookmark it until my shift was over?” Potter sounds incredulous, but, yes, actually, that is what Draco had thought. It was a mistake, and he’d expected Potter to be annoyed, but it wasn’t skive-off-work bad, surely.

“No, Draco.” And, oh. Potter sounds genuinely pissed off. “Irena told me to go straight home.” Draco’s face must give away his surprise because Harry sighs and sits down on the coffee table, knees pressed tight together as if trying to take up as little space as possible. He offers Draco a potion. “Given your ac-- what you di-- Given that… message, I think you probably need to drink this.”

Draco is more in need of a hangover potion than something to sober him up, but he takes the bottle from Potter without protest. Given how bleary-eyed he still feels and how annoyed Potter seems to be, it seems best to just go along with it. “I _am_ sorry.” Another apology can’t hurt.

Except, apparently, it can, because Harry’s chin trembles and he sort of collapses forwards, elbows braced against his knees, and buries his face in his hands. Draco instinctively reaches out, but Potter seems to sense that he’s coming and flinches away from him.

Stung, Draco retreats back to the sofa.

“I don’t… What’s _wrong_ ? I didn’t think you’d be this…” Draco trails off, not totally sure about just _what_ Potter is.

Potter looks up at Draco, eyes red and tired. He’s crying, Draco realises. Surely his reaction is fuelled by something else - it wouldn’t be the first time either of them have brought their work drama home with them. Draco can deal with this. Again, he moves forward to comfort Harry and again Harry moves away from him.

“You _didn’t think I’d be--_ What do you expect me to be?” Potter’s voice is low, monotonous, everything it never is. “You were clearly pissed out of your brain and I don’t know, maybe that’s still affecting you, because I didn’t think you’d be this…” he presses his lips into a tight, white line for just a moment. “This blasé about it.”

 _Blasé_ , Draco thinks. How serious does Potter expect him to be? This is ridiculous.

“I don’t know what else you expect from me, Potter!” Draco thinks of Pansy and her final reminder to stay calm. But Merlin, he’s sure even she hadn’t expected him to meet with this reaction. “I said sorry! What’s done is done, I can hardly take it back now, can I?”

“No!” Potter shouts, and he never shouts. All his arguing is done in with such an icy soft voice that Draco wishes he _would_ shout. Now, he wants the frost back. “No, Malfoy, you can’t!” And that’s another thing - Draco happily switches between calling him Potter and Harry without any deeper connotations, but Potter won’t call Draco by his surname unless he’s really angry. “You _can’t_ and I _hate_ that! But you could at least acknowledge that it’s going to take more than a _fucking apology_ for me to get over this!”

Draco is well and truly confused by now. He’d been so sure that Potter’s reaction was a result of him conflating a shit day at work with the irritation of Draco’s mistake, but it’s looking more and more as if he’s just unreasonably angry at Draco.

“Well, now I wish that I _hadn’t_ apologised!” Draco fires back. “Look where that got me! I should have just gone to bed and made you breakfast in the fucking morning.”

Potter goes preternaturally still. “An apology breakfast?” And, ah, yes, there’s that icy stillness back. “You were going to ignore it had ever happened and make me an apology breakfast?”

“Well, obviously I didn’t.” Draco snaps.

They fall silent, Draco coiled on the edge of the sofa cushions in vaguely hurt fury, and Harry hunkered over his knees on the coffee table, looking for all the world like the most down on his luck wizard that ever lived. It is a long time before he speaks again.

“Who was at the party.” It’s not a question

“It was Blaise’s birthday.” Draco replies, not wanting to give an inch. Potter just raises a disappointed eyebrow, and waits. “Fine. It was just me, Pans, Greg and his wife, a few guys from Blaise’s office. We went to a bar. Is that enough information?” He falls back on snark to cover the hurt. Harry never interrogates him, not like this. He doesn’t understand.

Potter grimaces as if in physical pain, then stands up. He looks down at Draco. “Just like that then?”

Draco frowns. “Like what? Oh, all of a sudden I’m not allowed to be friends with people who aren’t Saint Potter? Worried I might fall back on my old ways?” And maybe he hadn’t meant to say that, but Draco is feeling attacked enough to mean it.

Potter rounds on him. “You _know_ that that’s not what I think, but actually, yes, maybe after tonight that’s a good idea. Maybe you’re hanging around people who are _bad influences_ , Malfoy!”

“What the _fuck_ is that supposed to mean?” Draco needs to be standing for this.

“It means, Pansy’s not exactly a fucking paragon of ideal relationships!”

“How _dare you_ bring that into this!” Draco is spitting with rage. “How dare you even… How has Pansy got _anything_ to do with this?”

“She cheated on Andrew!”

“They were… You were there, Potter! Or what, you’re saying she should have stayed in a loveless relationship to save his feelings?”

“No!” Potter yells. “But she could have talked to him about it instead of going out and fucking the first girl she saw!”

This is going round in circles. “How has that got anything to do with this!” Draco grabs a fistful of his hair in frustration.

“It has got everything to do with this!” Potter seems to fully process what he’s said, but doesn’t take it back. Instead his face shutters entirely, and he sinks back down to the coffee table. Draco has so much angry energy running through him he doesn't think he could sit if he wanted to. Right now he’s quite content to keep himself higher than Potter and his ridiculous, unfair campaign against Draco’s friends.

“It’s got everything to do with this,” he says again. “She’s the one who was there with you afterwards. You said so in your message. No doubt she’s the one who told you what to say, how to spin this to look like an honest mistake--”

 _For fuck sake._ “It _was_ an honest mistake.”

“No, Draco. Dropping a cup is an honest mistake. Involves _one action_. This is… a whole series of actions. A whole string of mistakes. That you could have stopped at any time.” This time, Potter doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s crying. “You could have-- could have stopped and, and thought… a-about me and how-- how this would make me feel…” he trails off, well and truly shaking with tears at this point.

“Is it… Do you have an excuse?” Potter stares up at Draco with wide, wet eyes. “Not that you were drunk, I mean a real excuse. Like Pansy. Did you… Is this a loveless relationship?”

The blood drains from Draco’s face so abruptly he can’t remain standing. Suddenly he thinks he understands. “I-- You-- You think… Fuck, fuck fuck fuck.” He thinks of all the things he’d said, about the message he’d sent Potter, his subsequent accusation of Draco not taking the situation seriously… the _tears_ . “Harry, I’m _so sorry_!” In his panic, Draco is babbling, he can’t control himself, just knows he can never, will never be able to apologise enough for putting Harry through this.

“You said, Draco.” And Harry still sounds resigned, still sounds as if he’s lost all hope and Draco realises he hasn’t corrected him.

“Harry,” he says, and then doesn’t know how to continue. How does one even begin to correct this particular misunderstanding? “I didn’t… do what you think I did.” There. That should do. He can’t even make himself say it out loud.

Harry doesn’t look at him, and Draco realises that he hasn’t _properly_ looked at Draco since he arrived, but instead at a carefully selected neutral zone just over his shoulder. “Does it matter? You still did something. I don’t care who did what to whom, or _what_ you did. I just care that you did _something_ with someone who… who wasn’t me.”

And Harry sounds scared. More than anything, more than angry or betrayed or hurt, he sounds scared. And it absolutely breaks Draco’s heart that Potter has spent at least two hours feeling scared because of something Draco did.

“Harry,” he repeats, his voice quiet, calm. “I did not cheat on you. I swear.” He sees Harry open his mouth to argue, and Draco hurries to stop him adding even one more tiny blow to the pain he’s already in. “I left the pub when everyone else did. I was too drunk to Apparate, so Pansy Side-Alonged me. She left me on the sofa, but I was feeling dizzy so I went to get a drink when I saw the cake. And I was so hungry and I was so drunk, so I…”

Even though he knows it’s miles better than what Harry had thought, Draco is still ashamed of himself. The Slytherin in him doesn’t _want_ to admit fault in anything. “I ate the cake. I panicked and Flooed Pans to come back, and then she told me to apologise, so I--”

“So you sent me a Patronus saying that you fucked up, and that you’re sorry. With… with no other explanation.” Harry is looking at him now. “What was I meant to think?” His voice is tinged with faint traces of amusement and Draco’s stomach returns to where it is supposed to be.

“I’m so sorry, I’m an idiot.” Draco says, taking a chance and reaching out to Harry who (thank Merlin) doesn’t reject him. He curls his fingers around Potters wrist, feels the tremor of panic that still runs through him. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers.

He doesn’t say that he would _never_ do that to Harry, that he still has moments where he can’t believe Harry Potter wants _him_ , loves _him_. In the early days of their relationship, Draco had lived day to day expecting Potter to tell him he was seeing someone else, someone better.

Draco would never.

Draco slides off the sofa so he’s kneeling in front of Potter. Slowly, he dips his head until his forehead is pressed against Potter’s stomach. As softly as he can, he presses tender kisses against the soft grey t-shirt Harry is wearing. Draco makes fun of him for wearing them, says they prove Harry’s plebeian roots, but it’s a not-so-open secret that he loves them. “I’m sorry.”

Harry’s hands make their way gently into Draco’s hair. “You don’t have to apologise for something you didn’t do. _I’m_ sorry, for just assuming and not asking you straight out.”

Draco pulls back and Harry’s knees move to let Draco squish himself closer. He tilts his head up, giving Potter enough time to move away from the kiss if he doesn’t want it. He doesn’t move.

Draco stays there, just breathing against Harry’s mouth for a long time. He nudges their noses together and feels Harry’s smile under his mouth. “I’m sorry about your cake. I know how hard you worked on it.”

Potter shakes his head. “I wrote everything down. It’s not a massive deal to have to make it again. Not like I have to come up with charms from scratch this time.” He curls one gentle hand against the back of Draco’s neck and pulls him in for another kiss. “So it’s okay. Nothing to forgive.”

Draco shakes his head, pretending that he isn’t blinking back tears. Now that he _knows_ what they were fighting about (what Harry was fighting about) he feels utterly heartsick. He knows he didn’t cheat on Harry, would never, and he knows (now, after many many tearful arguments) that Harry would never do that to him, but the fight was very much real, the emotions behind it were real, even if the thing wasn’t. He feels sick.

“I love you,” he whispers. He doesn’t know what to do, he just knows that Harry has to believe how treasured he is.

Harry kisses him again. “I love you.”

They stay that way until Draco’s knees are numb and his lower back is complaining. He mutters something about relocating somewhere more comfortable and Potter’s little laugh warms him all over. “C’mon,” is all Harry says as he helps Draco to his feet and down the hallway to their bedroom. “Come let me cuddle you.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you comment it would make my day - any reprieve from churning out essays for uni is a good thing. 
> 
> I wrote this thanks to an uncredited photo post from tumblr: "Ate my girlfriends cheesecake when I got home last night then texted her 'I fucked up I'm so sorry' before passing out. Woke up to like 300 missed calls and texts of her thinking I'm cheating."


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